


Collaborative Effort

by PuddingMcMuffin



Series: Before Earth [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, Crack, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 12:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8103073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuddingMcMuffin/pseuds/PuddingMcMuffin
Summary: Silly crack that was surprisingly well-recieved on tumblr.
I'm sorry.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Silly crack that was surprisingly well-recieved on tumblr.
> 
> I'm sorry.

Not all enemies could be destroyed through outright means. Although this was not usually the way Zarkon fought, he had done it before, and would likely do it again.

The Galra Empire had been advancing towards Reach territory, which had likely motivated the Reach to send an emissary to negotiate a treaty. Neither side wanted a war; with how vast the empires were, a war would go on too long and be far too costly. It was a smarter move to join forces, and then, when the time was right, betray the other side. It was a game both groups had played before.

Zarkon had known of the Reach before they met. Not much, but enough to know that their race was as old and as long-lived as his own, and that they were conquerers like him.

He had been expecting the emissary to be older, maybe even a bit like him. What he had gotten was a man who looked like the epitome of youth.

The Ambassador had light green skin that showed no sign of age or wrinkles, broken only by the segments in his flesh. His face was framed by a teal helm, and his eyes were a shade of orange that contrasted nicely with the color of his skin. He was not dressed in a way Zarkon had expected, either. Such a distinguished race should have dressed as such, with extravagance. But the Ambassador was clothed simply, a black and white coat that hung open, covering the majority of his person, but showing off what was underneath: black leggings and a shirt that showed off _far_ too much of his segmented stomach.

Zarkon was tempted to have him thrown out the instant he walked into the throne room; the manner in which he dressed could not have been acceptable for any sort of delegate. The Galra Empire considered such an appearance to be whorish, and Zarkon wondered if he was being deliberately insulted.

Haggar had noticed his ire before he could act. “Different cultures, different customs, my lord,” she whispered. “Let us listen to him before we take any drastic measures.”

As always, she was right, and Zarkon sat silently while the Reach Ambassador made his way to the throne. He came onto the ship alone, apparently having ordered his own guards to stay with his ship. Zarkon would later be told it was a “show of trust” and the Reach’s faith that the Galra would not betray them.

Zarkon had been surprised once more when the Ambassador began to speak. Despite the youthful aura, there was wisdom behind every word he spoke. He was far more intelligent and experienced than Zarkon thought he was. He wasted little time on pleasantries, immediately going to the subject of the treaty.

Haggar had done most of the talking, as she usually did, with Zarkon only speaking to emphasize a point. If the Ambassador had been at all offended by this, he didn’t show it. He addressed Haggar with the same amount of respect he gave to Zarkon. Had experience taught him how to handle a situation like this? Zarkon wondered.

It was a standard treaty: do not touch already conquered planets, do not interfere with the actions of one group unless they are disrupting the actions of the other group, resources must be equally shared, and technology would be exchanged freely. These were all the terms the Ambassador had presented, with an added request that if any of their ancient technology was found on any Galra planet, that tech would be returned to them. Zarkon agreed, with a similar condition that if the Reach found anything concerning the Lions of Voltron it would be given to the Galra.

Something flashed in the Ambassador’s eyes when the Lions were mentioned, too fast for Zarkon to read. “Voltron?” he asked. “I had heard of such a legend, but I thought it was only that. Who knew that such a thing was real.”

“That is not for you to be concerned with!” snapped Prorok from the back of the room, who had been glaring at the Ambassador the entire time.

The Ambassador turned to him. “You are correct. My apologies,” he said, then turned back to Zarkon. “I did not mean to offend anyone with my curiosity.” He gave then a short bow of the head with a hand over his chest, and then looked back up.

There it was again. The look in his eyes. Behind his humbleness and sincerity, Zarkon could see a look of cunning. This man was scheming something, but if it was to get his hands on Voltron or something else, Zarkon couldn’t tell.

“Pay it no mind,” Haggar said to the Ambassador. “Just hand over the Lions if you find them.”

“Of course,” he answered, clasping his hands in front of him. “I promise that the Reach will honor our side of the treaty.”

Prorok could be heard snorting from behind him, but this time no one acknowledged him.

“The Galra will also honor our treaty,” said Zarkon. He then waved his hand in dismissal. “Our meeting is over.”

The Ambassador gave another short bow and looked up to Zarkon one last time before he turned and was escorted out of the room by the guards. There had been no trace of that look in his eyes that time.

“Prorok,” said Zarkon after the Ambassador had left.

Prorok had turned to watch the other leave. His ears twitched upward as he heard his name, and he unintentionally puffed up his chest as he turned back to his emperor. “Yes, my lord?”

“Do not disrespect our new partner again.”

Prorok almost instantly deflated, ears slightly drooping in shame. “Yes, my lord,” he said.

 

—–

 

The Ambassador stood out even among his own people. Even on the Reach’s own ships, he always looked out of place. And because of that Zarkon always found his eyes being drawn to him, even though the point of his tour of the Reach fleet was to look at their technology and weapons.

Haggar had suggested that they follow the Ambassador’s example and go aboard without the protection of their guards as the Ambassador had. The gesture didn’t mean as much, since the Reach fleet was right in the middle of Galra space, but they did it nonetheless. But unlike the Ambassador, who was clearly not a fighter, Zarkon doubted that if there was an attack he could have been overcome. The Reach guards themselves didn’t appear to have any super abilities. The only one that gave him slight worry was the black-armored Head of Security, who towered over everyone.

The Reach’s Head Scientist took over when they reached the labs, explaining their process for mutating an individual’s genes and giving them “meta-powers”.

Haggar had taken an interest in the Head Scientist’s work, and they quickly got into a discussion of how to integrate Haggar’s magic with Reach technology.

Zarkon’s eyes unintentionally drifted back towards the Ambassador, who watched his subordinate as she spoke. He tried once to chime in with the conversation, but was met with barely-restrained irritation from the Head Scientist.

A dark look appeared in his eyes after her response, but it vanished quickly when he noticed Zarkon staring at him. The Ambassador smiled at him, saying, “it looks as though our experts are formulating a plan; perhaps we should come up with some accommodations for them?”

Zarkon nodded, and left the room with the Ambassador.

 

—–

 

Only a few months had gone by since the joint Galra/Reach lab had been set up, and there was already extraordinary progress with the results they were producing. As such, Haggar had been spending the majority of her time assisting the Reach’s Scientist.

So Zarkon was alone when he met with the Ambassador aboard the Reach ship that day.

“I must say, I’m rather surprised with the work we’ve been doing,” said the Ambassador. “We’ve had some difficulty working with ‘magic’ in the past, but things have been going smoothly.”

The Ambassador had lead him to a room not far from the ship’s command center. It was small compared to the other rooms in the ship, containing two chairs, a small table and some shelves with various items on them. On the far wall in front of the chairs was a large widow, allowing them to look out into space.

The Ambassador sat down, motioning for Zarkon to do the same.

“Your head scientist knows what she’s doing,” said Zarkon as he sat, “and Haggar has had much experience combining her magic with tech.”

The Ambassador hummed in agreement.

“It is a shame you will not tell me more about the scarabs and your scarab warriors,” Zarkon continued.

“As it is a shame you will not tell me more about Voltron and the Lions,” the Ambassador answered. “But those are both things we agreed upon in our treaty.”

“Why did the Reach need to send out the scarabs at all?” Zarkon asked.

The Ambassador started to speak, and then paused. “I suppose I could tell you why, if you don’t mind the history lesson,” he said. He then settled himself into the chair, leaning back and clasping his hands on his lap. “We were originally more like you, just going straight in and taking over. However, we ran into trouble with the Green Lanterns and the Guardians of Oa. It soon turned into a war between…”

Zarkon soon stopped listening, just staring at the Ambassador. He had still not gotten over how the man presented himself. _Different cultures, different customs,_ he heard Haggar’s voice in his head. Yet the Ambassador hardly matched the people of his own ship.

Zarkon paused in his thoughts; was it really just the way he was dressed? That was certainly a part of it, but it wasn’t just that. In all of his years as the leader of an empire, Zarkon could not recall meeting anyone quite like the Ambassador. He truly could not tell what the Reach emissary would do next. He obviously worked in favor of his race, but there were times when his actions simply did not make sense. Times when he went out of his way to appease the emperor. It wasn’t groveling; Zarkon knew what groveling looked like, and the Ambassador was far too prideful for that. Neither was it out of fear. Even from their first meeting, the Ambassador had an unfaltering confidence, and had never once showed any signs of being intimidated. He was after something, and Zarkon couldn’t tell what.

It was only then that Zarkon realized that the Ambassador had stopped talking, and when he looked up he saw the Ambassador staring back at him. It had been done only absentmindedly, but Zarkon’s eyes had been roaming all about the other man’s body. What kind of things the Ambassador would say, would accuse him of, he was sure he was about to find out. Despite the embarrassing situation, Zarkon remained calm, keeping his eyes on the Ambassador’s.

The Ambassador still hadn’t said anything, only staring at him with a neutral expression. And then he gave a small smirk.

“Would you care for anything to drink?” he asked. He got up from his chair before Zarkon could answer, swiftly making his way to one of the shelves. To say Zarkon was surprised by that reaction was an understatement, and he stared at the Ambassador again as he tried to make sense of the situation. All the while the Ambassador poured drinks as if nothing had happened.

No outbursts of rage as he walked back to his seat. No insulting comment as he handed over the glass. No expression of disgust as he leaned back and took a sip of his own drink. The Ambassador did not react at all.

Zarkon sat with his drink for a moment, still staring at the Ambassador, who looked back at him. “I can assure you, it is safe for you to drink,” he said, giving another small smirk.

The emperor still said nothing, only then slowly bringing the glass to his lips. It was only when he took his first sip of the drink that the Ambassador spoke again.

“There’s nothing wrong with appreciating something beautiful, Zarkon.”

Zarkon had barely enough restraint to keep himself from choking on his drink.


End file.
